Dog er, God
by Mice
Summary: Jubilee returns to Los Angeles to attend the funeral of Bobby Drake's grandmother, Nan.
1. Chapter 1

Dog...er, God

By Mice

**Standard Mice Disclaimer**

No legal profit; some characters mine, obvious ones aren't.

-1-

"Tell me about your mother."

Annie took a deep breath as she sat on the couch at her therapist's office. "Warren said you were comfortable with strange circumstances, so...my mother was, what I thought was, a voice in my head that became more and more real as years went on until I found out she was actually in there. People went in my brain to get her out and put her back in a body and in the end, she refused. And now I'm mourning her all over again."

"You miss her?"

"When someone is in your brain and then not it's like...like having the emotion of anger and then having no ability to have it at all."

"You associate your mother with anger."

"All she was...was anger. Anger at me for not doing better, for not making good choices.." Annie put her head in her hands. "For a while, it made sense, but after I left Wyoming, I thought I was doing better. I was going to school and getting these opportunities...but I kept getting distracted by men." She closed them tightly. "One of them is now an erotic artist in Los Angeles who came out as gay, one hasn't been able to recover since he went inside my head and my ex-fiance? Is getting a second chance. Again."

"What about you?"

"What if I'm continuing this pattern of fucking up with Warren? What if I'm just fucking my way through the original X-Men? Is Scott next after I fuck it up? I can't believe I got onto a plane without thinking because someone offered me a chance to runaway. Again." She felt her chest grow tight. "I love running away to see who'll miss me. I'm almost forty - how long can I keep doing that, doc?"

"These are good questions to ask yourself. How's your father?"

Annie sat up and slumped to the back of the couch. "I don't know, we don't talk."

"His choice?"

"Nope."

"Can we revisit the idea of antidepressants?"

"I didn't like them."

"Understood. Have you thought of alternate therapies to deal with trauma?"

"Like?"

The therapist wrote down a note on a slip of paper and passed it to Annie. "Call them and set up a time. I think it would help."

Annie read the note and smiled. "Horses."

-2-

"Okay, my flight gets in at 5:32 PM but I'm coming in through Burbank - NOT LAX! I will never go there again after being stuck there for eight hours for a two hour direct flight that turned into a three stop flight."

"And the eight hours of traffic from Santa Monica to Burbank doesn't bother you?"

"Not if I take my sweet time. First, to Little Toni's."

"What?"

"Drake'son's never been and I miss it."

"You live in New York, now. You have access to real pizza."

"Little Toni's makes me feel like I'm a kid and I just won a little league game."

"You weren't in little league."

"I said feel like! Listen, I'll bring you some cheese sticks."

"We have cheese sticks in Santa Monica."

"Last time I was there, it was an artisanal heated cheese preparation in a gluten free casing. I've had american cheese singles with more soul."

"So when will you get in?"

"Around midnight. I want to hit Barcade 82 downtown."

"...I'll be in downtown around that time, I can just bring you back."

"We're also staying in a hotel."

"You're not staying there?"

"As much as I'd like to drive your cousin crazy with two Bobby Drake's in one home, no. We like privacy."

"Understood."

"What are you doing in downtown?"

"Art show."

"Listening. Is it more dicks?"

"...no."

"That took a while to say no."

"My art is more than dicks."

"Says the artist who created a neon dick army. Frost told me all about it. She even smiled about it. I don't know what that means."

"You're free to come if you want. The theme is "encasement"."

"Like...sausages?"

"I guess."

"So, dicks."

"Jubilee..." Bobby's voice tightened. "I don't really have time for this game. Just show up whenever you want and someone will be here. Probably not me."

The phone call ended.

"Well?" Drake'son asked, entering the room in a towel where Jubilee was packing her bag.

"He can't wait to see us!" She motioned to his small rucksack. "Is that all you're packing?"

"Yep."

"Are you only bringing half a change of clothes for a week?"

Drake'son went to the rucksack. "Pants, fancy pants, shirts times three, socks and unders times fourteen -"

"FOURTEEN?"

"You can never have enough socks and unders. Grooming and my black tie eye-patch." Drake'son pulled out a velvet box and slowly opened it.

"It looks just like your actual eye-patch."

"But this one is clean."

"Clean?"

"Never seen blood."

"Makes perfect sense."

Drake'son went for her hand and held it. "How are you?"

"She hasn't been well for a while, so I've had a long time to prepare for this."

"And seeing Bobby?"

"It'll be fine. We saw each other at the wedding that never was. Except for that part where I was mind controlled to cut his head off that didn't happen thanks to you -"

"Thanks to me!"

"-I feel like we're in a better place. We've talked on the phone a few times and it didn't feel too heavy," Jubilee lied. "Let's pack you a speedo or something. Nan would have wanted that."

-3-

Hank's condition had not changed in the months since he had not woken up at Annie's almost wedding. The doctors had noted extreme brain activity, but were unable to revive him. He had since been nicknamed "Sleeping Beast", a pun he would not approve of.

The brain activity that could be noted but not seen - not even by dear well meaning telepathic visitors. Six months and no sign of waking up.

And then the heart attack. It had happened during an intense REM cycle. The staff did what they could, but Dr. Henry McCoy was now weakened with not much hope of being able to waking up to the quality of life he had once before.

Meanwhile, he continued to dream.


	2. Chapter 2

**Dog...er, God By Mice**

 **Chapter 2: Villa Vanilla**

 _-Colorado-_

"The air is too clean - how do you thrive without proper pollution?" Emma held out her hand like a gift as she approached Annie at the steps of the porch at the Aerie. Annie took it very carefully to shake.

"Well, I'm spending time in the stables. Let's head on down there. I guarantee you that horse shit has done wonders for my soul and it will for you, too."

Emma mentally applauded herself for her foresight to wear brown boots as they began their way in the mud. "I keep telling myself that I'm never going west again and this is the second time this year. But, as you are the owner of Saint Gitan, I guess I'm here at your leisure."

"Saint Gitan?"

"According to the records we found, that is the official name of Anagiovanna St. Prix's assassin business. Named after her father."

"My grandfather. Neat."

"I've redefined the objective of the business to covert investigations for the elite instead of -"

"Killing people for profit?"

"I've been using "biological management"."

"That is both classy and morally confusing!"

"I thought so. The properties in New York alone could sell for forty million even in this market, but I believe we should hold on to them."

"You mean when Trump is no longer President?"

"I've been using "waste management improvement"."

"Classy and correct!"

"We also need to talk about France."

"I never thought anyone would ever say that to me..."

"You have land in France."

"I have France land?"

"An orchard, actually."

"France apple land?"

"To make Calvados."

"The applejack?"

"French applejack."

Annie put her hand at the base of her throat and her other to Emma's shoulder. "Emma, to be honest, I'm having a really hard time with this. Glibness aside."

"You're having a really hard time with being an heiress?"

"Well, yes. I mean, you were raised to expect it -"

"I was raised to expect everything."

"I was raised to avoid going to the doctor because it cost money and health is only for the rich."

"Well, that is going to change -"

"I still have a pretty bad phobia after my surgery. Hank took all that time to talk me into it, assuring me I'd be fine and then, bam. Lady stuff out of business."

Emma recalled a fax from Bobby regarding this and decided not to bring it up. Faxes were ancient technology and she had nothing to do with them. "I assure you, Warren is going to take you to the best doctors."

"I'm seeing a therapist to help with everything that happened with Sean and my mother." Annie brought a hand to her head automatically. "It hurts to think about."

Emma sniffed the ever increasing smelling of horses air. "You're probably manifesting your trauma. Try not to give it power - I doubt anybody is up for another spirit haunt in your head."

"I still have no memory of my own of how I got on a private jet with Warren to Colorado."

"I do marvel at that. Has anyone shed any light?"

"Scott told me some. The while everyone was under, Warren had a revelation and called his jeweler -"

"I can't believe Warren has Asa Carter on retainer."

"...is he your jeweler guy?"

"Asa Carter is a dick." Emma's bright eyes went dark. "Despite being able to turn into pure diamond, Asa has a rule about not taking on clients from Boston."

"...and that's it?"

"He referred me to Thomas Millinger. MILLINGER!"

"...and that's your guy?"

"Thomas Millinger deals with new money. Can you believe that? Asa Carter referred me to a jeweler for new money!"

"...and that's what you are?"

Emma stopped them and pointed a naturally polished finger nail at her eye. "You have so much to learn."

"...because I'm new money?"

"Precisely. That's why Thomas Millinger is sending you a fruit basket."

The walk continued.

"I was wondering who sent that."

"You didn't accept his offer, did you?"

"I didn't even get to eat the fruit. Warren said that it was only suitable for the ranch hands."

"You'd be wise to listen to Warren."

"What about you?"

"The fact that when you discovered this inheritance of yours, I was your first call - not Warren - was the wisest choice you have ever made."

"It got you to start calling me by my real name."

"What did I call you before?"

"'Hey You'."

"Sounds right. And speaking of names..." Emma stopped by a post and got out papers and a pen from her white Hermes satchel to give to Annie. "Are you ready to make this legal?"

Annie signed. "Good-bye Angina Peckinpaugh..."

"Now, can we stop walking towards the horse shit and to a proper glass of wine? Why is it so brown - I thought it snowed in Colorado."

"Stick around for a while, Emma - it'll happen."

"I'm here for the night and then I'm returning New York."

"You know, Dynasty was set in Colorado..."

"Would you like to ask me about Hank?"

Annie handed Emma the signed papers. "I'm moving on in my life."

"I can't help but feel that's cold and that's coming from me."

"He put you back together, one piece at a time. That will earn anybody loyalty."

"He's still not out of the coma. His vitals are-"

Annie stopped and put her hand up. "Once he wakes up, Warren will be the first call and I'll hear it from him. I've spent too long hoping Hank would wake up from his own delusions, I can't worry about a damn heart attack on top of that. I'm not that girl anymore. Legally, I am not that girl anymore. I'm a goddamn heiress named Diana St. Prix. Now let's get that wine."

 _-Santa Monica, CA-_

Jubilee knocked on the door out of courtesy before entering the home of the late Hannah Bass. "Put some pants on, Frosty - we're here."

Drake'son entered the home soon after her, much more cautious. "Are you sure we're allowed to just barge in here?"

"Nan would want her grandson from an alternate universe to feel at home in any home, I'm sure."

He nodded slowly. He had a grandmother named Hannah Bass in his dimension but she had perished long before he was born in the Cola Wars. Drake'son was very sad to hear that they were merely ad wars in this dimension and not the genocidal madness that afflicted his. This dimension was so innocent in comparison but he couldn't communicate that effectively. Jubilee always wound up laughing.

"Thinking about the Cola Wars again?"

"Stop."

"Tell me again about RC Cola's List." Jubilee clapped her hands, blocking him from entering the hallway."

"Don't make me tell this again -" Drake'son stopped as he saw this dimension's version of him. They had only met in the head of a shared ex-lover and now sandwiched between them was a different former lover/current lover. "Why are you so thin? You look ill. Are you ill?"

Bobby shrugged in his oversized white t-shirt and jeans. "You look strong and seriously healthy."

"Mainly vitamins and one hundred sit ups twice a day."

Jubilee piped up, "He lets me watch and one day, he shall let me film it, upload it, and exploit his abs."

"Jubilee..."

"Even better, one day all the washing machines will break and there those abs will be...and there I will be with my panties and laundry soap. Ready to scrub."

Drake'son and Bobby exchanged a look and said, "Perv."


	3. Chapter 3

**Dog...er, God By Mice**

 **Chapter 3: The Goods**

-Colorado-

"Okay, so I think I have a breakthrough."

"Oh?"

"Rich people are idiots."

"You're rich."

"...like, newly? I grew up like some sort of hand me down. But Warren?" Annie let out a long sigh to her therapist. "I love him. I really do, but he was raised with executive function - not day-to-day function."

"How do you mean?"

"I've never seen somebody use so many paper towels. Like, an embarrassing amount. We're constantly running out and he tells me, 'Don't worry - the maid will bring more!' but the maid just left! I'm going to go out and bring more."

"Does that make you feel like the maid?"

"It makes me feel like an employee of sorts, yes. Growing up, paper towels were a luxury item that you had to get permission to use. We didn't have paper towel money! And now that I have paper towel money, I feel like that's all I ever spend my money on!"

"I had a question about your family..."

"I thought therapists were supposed to just observe and take notes..."

"Your mother had a different father than her siblings?"

"Apparently? I never knew that and my grandmother never said anything."

"Why is that?"

"Per her diary...she had an affair with a drifter? Who showed up at the diner one night. And was the brother of the woman who would eventually employ my mother as an assassin in New York?"

"That last part was in her journal?"

"No, that would have been too helpful. That's what was pieced together from all the information that came to light after the wedding that never was."

"Was your mother treated differently by her siblings?"

"I know my Aunt Peyton always said she wasn't too involved with her or my Uncle Roman's life. said she was pretty cold. I think that was to justify the way she treated me."

"How do you feel she treated you?"

"Like I used paper towels I didn't get permission to use."

-Brentwood, CA-

"You told me it was a country store, Jubilation."

"It is, Drake'son - it's the Brentwood Country Market!"

"Country markets sell eggs."

"There's a Goop store here! I beg we could get a jade egg for -"

"I wanted to see chickens."

"I said nothing about chickens."

"You implied. You know what you do when you imply?"

"I made an imp lie?"

"Correct."

"We...do not have that saying. Probably because it doesn't make sense because an imp, by nature, would lie. That's all they do. I wouldn't have to make an imp lie! That's just what they do! It's like bees...they be."

"I like that. Also, is that fried chicken over there?"

"Very famous fried chicken."

"This is not how I would have liked to have seen chicken but I will submit."

"What will happen if we go for chicken and waffles while you are here?"

"Why would those two things ever be paired?"

"It's not so much a "why" as it is a "why didn't I think of that"."

"Pass."

"Veto."

"You cannot veto a pass."

"Los Angeles is my city -"

"We're in Brentwood."

"STILL MY CITY. And when we are in my city, we eat where I say."

"Pass."

"They have really good mac and cheese."

"...fine...just..."

"Yes?"

"Can you force us to go to Goop? I don't want to go there of my own accord, but perhaps if you made me..."

"Oh, are you implying something? Are you making the imp LIE?"

"If it means that it wasn't my choice to go there, then yes."

"It's a deal, lover."

-Colorado-

"You're still here?"

"Plane was delayed due to an incoming storm of some sort."

"Are you sure it wasn't a hangover?"

"I don't get those."

Warren picked up a cast iron pan and dropped it on the floor. Emma clutched her ears.

"Why would you do that?"

"To prove a point."

"Yes, yes, when you do it, you are Warren Worthington, III - golden sun of the world! Look at how decisive and not at all bratty he is."

"You could do the same."

"I do that, Warren, and people just call me an ignorant slut. Trust me, I read minds. Also - that hurt but not because I am hungover - which I am not."

"There is good wine here. No need to be ashamed of enjoying it."

"Also, what's with all the paper towels around the kitchen...are they used?"

"I don't understand what you mean."

"What is going on? Do you not have a maid?"

"She's due to come soon, yes."

"And you can't put them into the garbage can yourself?"

"I'd have to touch the garbage can to do that and that's too dangerous."

"Dangerous."

"Germs."

"But leaving these out here is perfectly ok."

"I dry my hands on them."

"So they are really more like tiny Shrouds of Turin."

"You understand this much better than Annie."

"That was sarcasm, Warren."

Warren smiled. "And I don't know what that means."

-Santa Monica, CA-

Bobby stared at himself in the mirror. He was alone in his grandmother's house again. The house was growing emptier every day.

Tomorrow, they would hold the funeral per her wishes.

Today...he would make a call while determining what he could do with the sparse amount of facial hair he had collected in the past month.

"Hello?"

"Hey, I'm looking for Hank?"

"Who is this?"

Who is this? Bobby thought, offended. One of the first X-Men you punk ass..."It's Bobby. Bobby Drake."

"Sorry, but Hank can't really talk now."

"Can you have him call me back?"

"Uhm...uhm..."

"Who am I talking to?"

"Davis."

Who the fuck is Davis? "Can I speak to someone in charge? Is Scott there?"

"Oh, man, you don't want to talk to Scott...he's in a mood to-"

Bobby hung up the phone and dialed again.

"Bobby."

"What happened to Hank?"

"We thought you wouldn't want to know."

"Wouldn't want to know what? Is he okay?"

"...not really. He's in a coma right now."

Bobby punched the wall next to the mirror that still held a Blues Clues hand towel. "Why wouldn't I want to know that?"

"Bobby, we're tired of being on your time table."

"What does that mean, Scott?"

"It means it's time to grow up."

"I'm happier than I've been in years and I don't think it's a coincidence that it has happened when I'm no longer an X-Men."

"Then why did you call, Bobby?"

"I needed to talk to Hank."

"He's called you so many times, Bobby and you never answered."

"He's still my best friend. Please, Scott, what happened?"

"He had a heart attack."

"What? How, I thought-"

"If you want more details, call Warren. I have to go."

Bobby put down his phone and punched the mirror The sparse facial hair would stay another day.


End file.
